Ripley opens her mouth to speak. To oblige the hundred questions buzzing incessantly inside her skull. Always keen to know the why, the where— a product of her detestation for the unknown. And a greater need to know what the fuck she was just apart of. The words are lost, and out comes another strangled half-noise, a question in itself.
"Necessary to drive a knife into the back of your head? And this person—" She gestures down to herself, "—She's supposed to be the lesser of two evils? I find that hard to believe. The costume, the performance— I felt her intention. She was savage."
no subject
Amnesia— that's right.
Ripley opens her mouth to speak. To oblige the hundred questions buzzing incessantly inside her skull. Always keen to know the why, the where— a product of her detestation for the unknown. And a greater need to know what the fuck she was just apart of. The words are lost, and out comes another strangled half-noise, a question in itself.
"Necessary to drive a knife into the back of your head? And this person—" She gestures down to herself, "—She's supposed to be the lesser of two evils? I find that hard to believe. The costume, the performance— I felt her intention. She was savage."